


(Without Tradition) Art is a Flock of Sheep Without A Shepherd

by gala_apples



Category: Glee
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Consensual Infidelity, F/M, Infidelity, M/M, Misgendering, Ritual Sex, Traditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-15 15:35:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1310029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Blaine fulfilled a Warbler soloist tradition (and one time he was only a back-up singer).</p><p>"When I was with the Warblers, sneaking onto the stage the night before a competition was tradition. There were other traditions I can’t really speak about." Blaine Anderson- 5x11.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Without Tradition) Art is a Flock of Sheep Without A Shepherd

**Author's Note:**

> To explain my tags a bit more:
> 
> -Blaine thinks of Unique as Wade in season three, and uses male pronouns in his head, but doesn't say anything negative or hateful  
> -In one section Kurt is very aware of Blaine's infidelity, and accepts it, and it's left open to whether Kurt also cheats in that instance. In other sections it's up to the reader as to if Kurt is aware that Blaine is still having ritual sex.
> 
> Title quote is Winston Churchill.

**Nationals- senior year**

Blaine’s half afraid the next time he comes into the room Sam and Tina are going to be making out. His only hope to preserve his eyes is if Artie gets back to the senior guy’s room before he does. But he can’t put this off any longer. He has to be back before Sam decides to take everyone on the late night field trip he thinks no one’s aware of yet.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what floor Throat Explosion are on. Maybe just a little Facebook stalking earlier in the day. Armed with that information, Blaine locks his legs in the elevator and doesn’t move again until he reaches the tenth floor.

“I believe we got off on the wrong foot earlier,” Blaine starts with a congenial smile.

Jean corrects him instantly. “No, we didn’t. And you’re not here about feet either. Come in before someone sees.”

Blaine hurries into the space Jean has left between himself and the door. He doesn’t toe off his shoes yet. Jean expecting him to be here has thrown him off his game a little, and this time he doesn’t have Sam to step in. “You know why I’m here?”

“New Directions is hardly the first show choir to follow the star fucks the star tradition. You should know that already, you follow the show choir blogs.” 

Blaine has to agree there. Some really are quite salacious. Kitty doesn’t know what she’s missing. 

Jean, clearly comfortably in control of the situation, pulls his turtleneck over his head and begins to work his zipper. “Now, I know your country doesn’t have sex ed, but I use condoms.”

“You have dual citizenship, it’s your country too.”

“Only until I make it big. Then I’m retiring to Montreal, where the classy people live.”

Blaine doesn’t understand a person who could pick anything over New York, but he doesn’t need to understand Jean. He just needs to have sex with him. Safe sex, because the absolute last thing he needs is for Kurt to find out because they’re suddenly sharing an STI.

**Nationals- junior year**

It’s not the first time he’s been to Nationals, but Chicago is different than Dallas was. For one thing, it’s not so hot that he thinks he might die. Last time, every Warbler was on a strict sunscreen regime every time they left the hotel. Even a five minute walk to a food cart wasn’t allowed unless Wes had double-checked for skin protectant. Now, not only would Finn not think to nag, it’s just not needed.

For another, Schue’s managed to fit a lot more people in one hotel room than the Warblers did. No doubt it has to do with private school money vs semi-homeless students like Sam and Rory. At least he can now say for certain that all the members of New Directions jerk off at least once a day.

The one thing that’s stayed the same is Jesse St. James’ arrogant grin. He seems to live in the lobby, willing to make faces at every performer he recognises. Nice ass or not, Blaine’s grateful that he doesn’t have to hit him up for seconds.

That doesn’t mean Blaine’s projected star is any easier to approach. It’s just difficult for a different reason.

Wade Adams’ twitter handle is @UniqqueStar, and thanks to a bunch of links to flickr, Blaine’s able to pinpoint a location. More specifically, a thrift store a few blocks away from the hotel. He decides to leave his friends, all of whom are freaking out in different ways, and head down that way. Wade’s still trying on dresses when Blaine arrives, two thrown over a shoulder, and a skirt off it’s hanger bunched in his hand.

“Your group not decided on a uniform yet?”

Wade startles, then a flash of recognition darts through his eyes. “Blake, from New Directions?”

“Blaine, actually. But you’re half right!”

“Ten points to Gryffindor then. And no, our coach has not one, but two uniforms for me, depending on what look he thinks will give us more points from the judges. Different choreography too. But either way I’ve got solos, and that’s what matters, right?” Wade laughs, but it’s hesitant. “So yeah, just taking a minute out of my very busy social calendar to personal shop.”

Blaine takes a closer look at the chosen garments. “I would have thought...”

“What?”

“I dunno. Just... more flashy?”

“Unique isn’t a drag queen. She’s just a girl. Macy’s makeup, not white eyeshadow up to my browline.”

“Yes, but a girl who looks to Mercedes Jones and Kurt Hummel for inspiration.”

“You may have a point,” Wade tells him. “Want to help me accessorise? If you have time?”

“I have time. Problem being, Kurt would say silver, Mercedes would say gold gold gold! What do you like?”

“Unique likes gold, like her soul-mother.”

Blaine nods. There’s a rack of jewellry against the wall, maybe some of it will be gold plated. He’ll ask Wade later if ‘Unique’ is a straight girl, and if she is, he’ll press his luck. If not, he’ll find another top notch choir. The Scale Blazers and the Wa Wa Wailers both have really good odds in the show-blogs. But he can give him this space now, since it’s pretty freakin’ clear St. James isn’t, and the rest of Vocal Adrenaline sways in Jesse’s wake.

**Regionals- junior year**

Blaine hates Sebastian. 

He’s not to blame for Karofsky, though at least if he blames himself -which he seems to, if the things he said at the Lima Bean were his true feelings- he might develop morals some time soon. He could maybe be okay, if he was a little less of a bastard. As it is now though, Blaine sees him and feels the salt burning in his eye. He feels a short burst of the nausea that came after he woke up still partially anesthetized in the hospital. He can practically hear his father’s _I told you so_ lecture about leaving the safety of Dalton for McKinley and his mother’s cruel disappointment when he refused to press charges. Those aren’t things you can just forgive.

Blaine hates Sebastian Smythe, but when the maid tells him that there’s someone at the door for him, and it’s Sebastian standing on the stoop with a Dalton blue skullcap on, he lets him in. After all, Regionals are tomorrow.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be on the way to me. I would have hated to miss you in transit.”

“You couldn’t have texted?”

“You wouldn’t have answered.”

No, no he probably wouldn’t have. But he shows Sebastian where to hang his jacket, and tells him to follow before heading up the cream carpeted stairs. By the time Blaine’s got the bed covers pulled back -Lori usually washes his sheets once a week, but these will clearly need to be done tomorrow- Sebastian is naked, hair ruffled from taking his hat off.

“You can try to tell Kurt, if you want. I know you love blackmail. But he won’t believe you. Not after everything.” Blaine isn’t quite sure if it’s a warning or a threat, but he has to say something in the face of Sebastian’s long lithe nudity and Kurt in his heart and a win so close to hand.

“I don’t want to ruin your relationship. At least not a _lot_. And I’m intelligent enough to know that that Latina harpy will slit my throat the next time I go near New Directions, never mind strike up a conversation with Hummel. I’m here because I want to win Regionals.”

That, at least, is a trait Blaine can understand. 

**Regionals- sophomore year**

Two weeks ago, Blaine was glad for the Warbler council. He’d tried his best to show Kurt how to be sexy, failing at every attempt. It was a problem, but ultimately not _his_ problem. The council would be the one to inform Kurt as to what traditions he’s expected to follow.

Now, though, it doesn’t matter. Kurt sang to Pavarotti and broke something inside him, something Blaine hadn’t even known was there. Blaine knows what he wants to do with that love, knows Jeremy and all his other idle crushes mean nothing in the wake of Kurt’s crystalline voice and his beautiful, smudged, fragile soul. He doesn’t regret for a moment leading a coup and getting Kurt a duet. But there are consequences to every action. Making Kurt a lead has several very direct consequences, one of which was seeing Kurt’s expression as he went from seeming to believe Blaine was joking about the responsibilities of the soloist(s) to realising he was serious.

They don’t have much time when the bus gets to the theatre. Kurt’s fingertips touch his, Lima caution not quite allowing him to make that final move. Blaine weaves his fingers with Kurt’s and they walk in together, other Warblers around them not so much a sheild as a herd. There is nothing to hide.

“So, are you really doing this?” Kurt doesn’t sound particularly judging, nor like he’s searching for advice, but Blaine decides to explain anyway.

“It’s tradition. That matters to the Warblers. It matters to Dalton, and to my family. It matters to me. I’m not forcing you, and I understand if it changes your opinion of me. But I’m doing this.”

“Who are you...I mean, is it someone from...”

“New Directions? No. Aural Intensity panders to the judges. I can guarantee you Ms Sylvester created a God-n-Country set that perfectly suits the nun and the tea party candidate. They’re the stronger threat. Besides, I thought it might be easier for you, if you decided to participate, if you knew the person you were asking.” Kurt really is the furthest thing from a king of one night stands.

“No one else in New Directions is gay,” Kurt says softly. Blaine squeezes hand. He knows that very thing, the lack of community was part of what drove Kurt away from McKinley.

“You’d be surprised how frequently that doesn’t matter. Look, I’ve got to go before Aural Intensity performs.” He leans in to kiss Kurt’s cheek, then backs away before it can become anything more with a twist of the head. Blaine wants Kurt, already loves him, but he’s got to find Tennessee Simpson before Aural Intensity starts their own pre-competition rituals.

**Sectionals- sophomore year**

Blaine’s selection this competition is obvious. It’s Rachel Berry, Rachel Berry, or Rachel Berry. She’ll have a solo, for certain. New Directions would be stupid to not star her, like they have in previous competitions. That doesn’t mean he has to be excited about it.

Once inside the building they mostly cluster. Thad breaks off to figure out where they’re supposed to go, and Kurt wanders away to find his brother and his old friends, but Blaine stands with the rest. Nick’s the one who brings up the obvious issue. He claps him a few times on the shoulder and says loftily, “so you’re not a gold star gay anymore. So what? Labels are stupid anyway.”

Easy for him to say, Blaine thinks. Nick and Jeff have been dating since they were five and made each other pipe cleaner rings and popsicle stick flowers. Nick probably hasn’t so much as breathed on a girl. But tradition is tradition.

Blaine spots Rachel before Kurt spots the rest of his old club. She’s in line to speak to staff, fidgeting, not yet changed into show clothes. He decides to approach immediately. There’s no telling how long it’ll take to convince her, and the Warblers perform second, if the signage is to be believed. “What show choir traditions are you aware of?”

Rachel’s eyes widen as she tosses her hair back over her shoulder, perfectly mirroring a frustrated horse. Blaine has the oddest urge to stroke her face and blow into her nostrils until she calms down. “Well, there’s the one in which everyone drinks together. But mostly New Directions just freaks out and threaten to quit.”

“Are you aware of the tradition in which the two rival stars use each other to get their sexual vibes revving?”

“No!” Rachel exclaims, loud enough to momentarily draw attention. But she doesn’t sound like she’s about to mace him, so that’s a good sign.

“Judges like sexy. Even thought who claim not to are subtly swayed by it. It’s possible to act it. It’s a lot easier to actually feel it.”

“Aren’t you gay?”

“I could be bi,” he replies. He’s not, but telling Rachel he’s only doing this out of tradition will hardly endear him to her.

She takes a moment to think about it. Blaine can tell the instant she decides yes, before she says anything. It’s on her face. Expressions readable from space are a negative effect of a truly diva personality. 

“We have to keep this quiet. I’ve already done this type of betrayal once with Jesse St James.”

“Of Vocal Adrenaline? Me too.”

Rachel titters a laugh before covering her mouth as she realises she’s being rude. “I’d say I’m shocked, but I’m really not.”

“He’s got a nice butt, huh.” He was Blaine’s first, last year at Nationals. Well, co-first. Blaine had shared a duet with Thad, and they’d gone to St. James together. Vocal Adrenaline had booked premium rooms, so with a king sized bed they’d had a lot of space to touch and explore. All in all, a pretty good first.

“Nice everything, if we’re being honest. Except personality, of course. We’re only getting to third base. I’m saving myself for someone I love. Unlike _some_ people who can remain unnamed. Finn Hudson,” Rachel finishes, completely negating the previous sentence.

Blaine’s fine with third. He doesn’t really want to fuck her anyway. That requires a little more active participation than he’d like. Eating her out will be like any other unpalatable meal he’s been required to politely finish during his summers at home.

**Regionals- Freshman year**

“You need to jerk off tomorrow,” Wes tells him. The comment comes from seemingly nowhere. Even when Blaine rewinds the last few minutes of conversation and reviews it in his head he can’t find the bridge from choreography to _that_.

Way too late for it to be sincere, Blaine manages a chuckle.

“I’m not joking. Tomorrow morning, at the very earliest, you need to jerk off. The closer to the competition the better though. A box of tissues will be going around on the bus, for the more exhibitionist of us.”

Blaine is blushing so hard his face is tingling. How on earth is he supposed to react to this? There’s no easily regurgitated etiquette for a role model ordering you to do private business. “I. Um. I don’t-?”

Wes isn’t blushing at all. He’s entirely calm as he explains himself. “It’s a matter of sexual power. It can be difficult to come off as sexual in a fully covering uniform. Reminding your body that it is a sexual composite is very important. You want to win Regionals, don’t you?”

“Of course I do!” The Warblers accepted him so graciously in the middle of the term, when they could have said try out next year.

“Well then.” Blaine can practically hear Wes banging the gavel, passing this motion. But he must take in Blaine’s expression, because he continues in a less forceful tone. “Look. No one is saying you have to do it at the concert hall. Do it at home if you’re shy.”

“And if I want to do it five minutes before curtain?” He’s still blushing, but he suddenly feels bold.

“We’ve been over this a dozen times, Anderson. You don’t have gay cooties. No one cares about what you’re thinking about, besides winning the competition because you’re exuding every quality that the judges could want. But you might have a hard time finding a private place. As lead vocalist it’s Thad’s duty to have sex with another lead, so he gets first times on an empty room.”

“Thad...?” Blaine peers at Wes, trying to tell if he’s joking.

“The Warblers take tradition seriously. If he wasn’t willing to fulfill the role, he wouldn’t be lead. He wouldn’t have auditioned for a solo in the first place.”

Blaine nods. He’ll have to think about this. His lofty goals of a three year climb to power might have to be adjusted. Or maybe they won’t. Depends on if there are cute guys on the rival teams, really.


End file.
